


Meant to Be

by aishahiwatari



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, Academy Era, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempts to Explain Soulmate Marks with Science, Backstory Changes, Discussions of Surgery, Hand-wavy Biology, M/M, Mark Rejection, OC alien species, Oral Sex, Soulmate Mark Removal, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, attempted self-harm, discussions of therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-07 23:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17374859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/pseuds/aishahiwatari
Summary: Jim Kirk hates his soulmate mark. He keeps it hidden. It’s just another reminder of how alone he’s always been and he wants it surgically removed.Doctor Leonard McCoy can do that. He’s had it done, himself.He’s never forgotten what his mark was, though. He’ll know it if he ever sees it again.Like on his unconscious best friend’s wrist as he prepares him for surgery, for example.





	1. Chapter 1

Jim always kept his left wrist covered, Leonard noticed. He wore long sleeves, or sweatbands, or a cuff. Leonard had spent time alone with him in their rooms -mostly his, because he had actual qualifications and was thus entitled to a single, while Jim had to share- but he had still never seen Jim with his wrist uncovered in the year and change that they’d been at the Academy.

 

He had his suspicions about why, had them abruptly confirmed when he staggered through the door to his room after a long shift at the hospital to find Jim hunched on the floor of his bathroom, wrist jarringly exposed and a big, sharp knife in his other hand.

 

Leonard was on him without hesitation, fingers wrapped gently but firmly around each of Jim’s wrists.

 

“Don’t touch it!” Jim fought, but he was drunk and covered in blood and Leonard held on, using Jim’s twisting against him until he was leaning against Leonard’s chest, body curling into his warmth. After a few moments of that, Jim began to sob.

 

Leonard hugged him, deftly pulling the knife from Jim’s shaking fingers and knocking it as far out of reach as possible, not relinquishing his grip over that left wrist he still hadn’t seen except to have the vaguest impression of a black mark.

 

Because it had been his mark, not a scar, that Jim was hiding. It wasn’t an uncommon impulse, to keep that part of oneself private. There were always horror stories circulating in the media of people being duped by tattoos, taken advantage of when someone claimed to be their soulmate. People were so desperate to believe in that effortless, all-consuming love that they’d suspend their disbelief, sometimes.

 

But it wasn’t an ironclad guarantee. Even the worst people had marks, and Leonard had met people who had been in unsuccessful soulmate relationships. He had spoken to those who shunned the idea of ever seeking theirs, too, despite the proliferation of websites and agencies that claimed to assist them in doing so. He’d known some, too, who found the idea so repellant that they tried to remove the mark from their skin.

 

So Jim’s impulse was understandable, drunk and vulnerable as he was. Less understandable were his words, his sobbed, hiccuping apologies, breathed hotly into Leonard’s chest, over his heart.

 

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Jim.” Leonard spoke into Jim’s hair and only made him cry harder, although at least the apologies stopped. “I just want to help you.”

 

“Why?” Jim said, then flinched as though he hadn’t meant to.

 

“Because you’re my friend,” was the best way Leonard could put it, to encompass the many and varied possible answers to that question, before he realized he had to add: “Because for a while there you were the only thing in my life made any sense. You’re stuck with me now.”

 

“I wasn’t- trying to-“

 

“Remove your mark?”

 

Jim tensed. Leonard’s fingers were still wrapped tightly around his wrist, not holding but covering, and he felt Jim’s heart race beneath warm, soft skin, marred but intact.

 

“I’m glad I stopped you,” Leonard said, because he had no doubt that Jim could handle anything, but he was at his best when he was shining and whole. He had only ever seen brief flashes of it, in moments away from those who might have judged, was honored by the trust shown in him with every single one.

 

“I hate it,” Jim snarled, but didn’t move, body lax and defeated except for the hand he brought up to cover Leonard’s, as though another layer of skin and bone might keep it from having such an impact. “I’ve always hated it. When it came in- I couldn’t have been more alone and it’s just a constant reminder that even if I find this miraculous somebody, a chance of one in countless billions, it can be taken away just like that.”

 

Leonard made sure his voice was as gentle as he could make it when he said, “You’re not the only person to feel that way. I’ve had patients who tried to cut them out, or burn them off. It bleeds through any scarring. And anybody who’s been able to fully sever a limb- it just comes back somewhere else. I had a patient who amputated his own foot, only to have it reappear on his sternum.”

 

“What happened to him?”

 

Leonard just sighed and held him tighter. Jim didn’t push it, seemed to understand. “So there’s nothing I can do?”

 

“There are things. Do you mind if we move this conversation onto the couch though? My ass is going numb.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“None of that blood’s yours, is it?”

 

Jim looked down at himself like he had forgotten it was there. “No. I don’t think so.”

 

“Check. You wanna take a shower? I still have water rations left.”

 

“Yeah. Uhh-“ Jim gave his wrist, or Leonard’s hand, a pointed look.

 

“I promise I won’t look.”

 

“It’s not- if I could show anyone-“ Jim’s voice cracked, his gaze dropped, and the unspoken  _ it would be you _ made Leonard feel warm inside.

 

“I understand. You eaten?”

 

“I feel like you’re gonna tell me that bar nuts don’t count.”

 

The only reply Jim got to that was an expressive roll of Leonard’s eyes. At least they both smiled, a little. “I brought Thai food. We’ll share.”

 

Leonard had learned the hard way that Jim felt more comfortable eating when somebody else was, too. As a result, Leonard always ordered more than he alone would eat, and kept the leftovers. He rarely threw food away, always smiled a little to himself when he found a slice missing from his pizza or less rice than he had thought he had left. A caretaker at heart, he’d had to adapt his methods somewhat for Jim but had never doubted for an instant that he was worth it.

 

“Green curry?” Jim wheedled, pushing his head against Leonard’s jaw in a vaguely affectionate bump.

 

“Red.”

 

Jim wrinkled his nose.

 

Leonard nudged him in the ribs. “You’ll live. And Pad Thai.”

 

“You’re a God among men.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

Somehow, entangled as they were, they managed to get to their feet. When Jim grabbed a towel to cover his wrist and slipped free of Leonard’s grasp, Leonard used those same fingers just to touch Jim’s chin, encouraged him to make eye contact before he got too caught up in his overthinking.

 

“We’re gonna fix this. I swear.”

 

“I’ll be okay, Bones. Just- bad day. Better now you’re here.”

 

“I’ll take the day off, next year. We’ll go somewhere.”

 

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

 

“Jim. You and I both know what sort of things you’d end up getting up to with a babysitter.”

 

Jim snorted at that, and it was almost a laugh so Leonard released him to retrieve his kitchen knife and retreat to serve up food with only the smallest vein of worry at the back of his mind. He laid out the containers on the coffee table and put something mindless on the holoscreen while he began to dig in.

 

After a while Jim joined him, damp and flushed and whole, dressed in a pair of Leonard’s sweats and with a thankfully clean compression bandage around his wrist. Leonard had had a lot of practice not staring at the artfully dishevelled picture he made, just slid a container of noodles in his direction so Jim could eat deftly with chopsticks and commandeer the holoscreen the moment Leonard’s attention wavered. 

 

Curling up, then stretching out again to squeeze cold toes under Leonard’s thigh, Jim smiled and Leonard returned it over the padd he’d picked up. As much as he wanted to help, he would be restrained by local laws and policies he wasn’t as familiar with as he could have been. He hadn’t come across any cases of mark rejection since he’d left Georgia, and it was entirely possible that doctors wouldn’t even had identified it as a separate condition from a general body dysmorphia, as focused as they tended to be on the symptoms rather than the cause of the phenomenon.

 

Vaguely, he kept an eye on Jim, who had procured a padd of his own from who-knew-where -oh, wait, that was Leonard’s, the one he’d thought he’d lost- and was reading with the crease between his brows that meant he didn’t agree with whatever it was. Leonard didn’t doubt he was doing his own research, wondered when-

 

“It says here you can permanently remove a mark.”

 

“You can, it just-“

 

“But I’d need hormone therapy.”

 

“And that’s not-“

 

“But I’d need to go through a mental health assessment first.”

 

“Yes, and there are-“

 

“But there’s only a couple of states that recognise it as a medical condition-“

 

“Damnit, Jim!”

 

“What? That’s what it says.”

 

“Well, when you’ve finished reading the article-“

 

“I have!”

 

“Not well enough to see who wrote it.”

 

Jim looked down again, and Leonard saw him scroll, then blink, then look up. “You- you’ve done it.”

 

“Yes, I have.”

 

“You wrote an article on it.”

 

“I wrote five articles on it. Most of which have been technically accepted but largely ignored. It’s not that common, without other psychological conditions present. They usually muddy the waters during diagnosis. There’re only a few recorded cases. And- well-“

 

“What?”

 

“Sometimes it can be a symptom rather than a condition in itself. Indicative of a desire to have control. I would suggest-“ Leonard held up a hand when Jim opened his mouth to object, and he unwillingly subsided. “I would suggest therapy first to rule out any other underlying issues, for anybody who is reasonably able,” he emphasised, because Jim was fidgeting instead of trusting him to know what was best. “And not for anybody who was suffering enough to self-mutilate. If you were my patient, I’d suggest putting you on the hormones first, seeking therapy in the meantime -and don’t you dare suggest you don’t need it, you’ve got more issues than National Geographic- with a consideration to seeking surgical intervention after six months.”

 

“Your article says it can be done in three.”

 

“I know what it says, I wrote the damn thing.”

 

“I want it off.”

 

“You want relief. It has control over you, based on a power nobody’s ever been able to identify. It produces a hormone that drives you to seek monogamy with one other person and when you fight that, it makes every part of you feel on-edge, gives you that gut feeling that something is wrong but you can’t pin down exactly what. The hormone therapy will stop that. You’ll gradually feel less of the mark, and more of yourself, and only then will you be able to figure out just what it is that’s making you feel the way you do today.”

 

“Talking to a few of your patients doesn’t mean you have any idea how I feel.” Jim’s tone was dark, and a little petulant, and with a sigh because he’d been hoping to avoid such a blatant display, Leonard got to his feet and began to unbutton his shirt.

 

It certainly startled Jim out of his funk. “Uhh, Bones? What are you doing?”

 

“Proving a point.”

 

Jim just stared. Served him right; he’d been parading around shirtless in front of Leonard for as long as they’d known each other. When Leonard bent to pull off his socks, he thought he heard Jim’s mouth close with a click of teeth. Leonard unbuckled his belt, dropped his pants and stepped out of them, past modesty with all the years he’d spent in college dorms and prodding naked strangers. He had nothing to be ashamed of, although he hadn’t thought Jim’s staring would be quite so shameless. Jim was taking in every detail of Leonard’s body, so intense Leonard felt like he could feel the warmth of his gaze across his shoulders, flitting down his spine, tracing the lines of muscle in his thighs. It was vaguely flattering, considering the number of beings Jim had to have seen in states of undress, that Leonard could even hold his interest for so long.

 

He didn’t let himself pause before he dropped his briefs, smiled a little to himself as Jim made an adorable little squeaking sound and then, with his arms raised and his feet shoulders-width apart, he turned once, twice, and met Jim’s eyes to see the stunned realisation there.

 

“You removed your mark.”

 

“Technically a very qualified plastic surgeon did the actual removing, but I defined the process.”

 

“But- why?”

 

Leonard looked at Jim strangely as he crossed to the bedroom to grab some clean clothes. “You’re the last person I would have thought would have to ask.”

 

“It’s just- it’s not like your soulmate would never want you.”

 

The emphasis broke Leonard’s heart and he sagged for a moment, safely on the other side of a wall. In sweatpants and an old T-shirt, he emerged to lean over the back of the couch and wrap his arms around Jim, pressing his cheek to Jim’s hair. “Anybody -soulmate or not- would be lucky to have you, Jim.”

 

Jim didn’t reply, just stared at the bandage over his wrist, although he did bring his other hand up to wrap around one of Leonard’s forearms and leaned in, just a little.

 

After a few moments, he said, “Is it weird that I want to know what yours was?”

 

“You wouldn’t be the first to ask.” Leonard returned to his own seat with a rueful smile. “You’d have to deal with that, too, you know. The societal pressures’ll all still be there. And- not having the mark doesn’t erase the memory of what it was. Would you be able to live with the knowledge that you could meet somebody one day who also has the mark on their skin?”

 

“Would they- still have their mark?”

 

“I don’t know. Never worked with anyone who’d found their match. Marks do disappear, fade or change. Nobody knows why.”

 

“How can there still be so much we don’t know? It doesn’t seem possible.”

 

“Well, mankind has evolved over thousands of years. We only even discovered electricity in the nineteenth century. We’ve still got a lot to learn. Isn’t that why you joined Starfleet? Maybe one day we’ll find out, somewhere out there.” Leonard had meant it as an innocent musing, but he saw Jim’s eyes light up, his back straighten, his lips stretch in a genuine smile. “Goddamnit.”

 

“You coming into space with me, Bones?”

 

Leonard gave what he knew would not be his last long-suffering sigh. “Somebody’s gotta keep you in one piece up there. Will you- give me a hand with my piloting requirement?”

 

“Will you show me how a tricorder works?”

 

“No.”

 

“Bones! What if you get injured and I don’t know what to do?”

 

“If I’m injured in a situation where you have time to use a tricorder you have my full permission to abandon me to my well-deserved fate.”

 

“I’d never let anything happen to you.”

 

Jim’s statement only made Leonard worry that Jim would be more inclined to consider Leonard’s safety than his own. “Basic first aid. That’s all.”

 

“You’re the best.” Jim leapt out of his seat to press a quick kiss to Leonard’s cheek, before heading to the bathroom. “Coming to bed?”

 

“Depends. Am I gonna wake up with anything poking me?”

 

“It’s a compliment!”

 

“And don’t use my damn toothbrush!”

 

“Bones, we’ve seen each other naked. I think we can share a toothbrush.”

 

“No! There’s a new one under the sink.”

 

“If I open it, you’re officially the most serious relationship I’ve ever had.”

 

“You could do worse.”

 

Silence. Leonard cringed, had maybe pressed one of Jim’s more sensitive buttons too soon after a serious discussion about feelings. He got up to join Jim in the bathroom and found him contemplating the toothbrush packaging. Ever so gently, Leonard eased it from his hands, ripped it open and handed it back with a bump of his hip against Jim’s and the reminder, “This is important to me, too, you know.”

 

If they slept that night with their fingers intertwined, well, nobody needed to know.

 

-

 

“I can’t just tell Starfleet I’m getting therapy ! If they think I’m unstable they won’t let me command.”

 

“Well, it has to be recorded on your file whether you use the ‘fleet-designated services or not. You’ll just have to spin it. People get therapy for all sorts of reasons. It shows you’re willing to accept responsibility for yourself and seek help when you need it.”

 

“Would you go with the ‘fleet therapist?”

 

“Uhh, no. If you were having work-related stress, then sure. But I think it’d help you, too, if it could be something entirely separate from your experience here.

 

“Think there’s any chance I could find one who doesn’t know who my dad was?”

 

“Maybe someone not originally from Earth?”

 

“Is there like a directory or something?”

 

“Should be. Here.” Leonard leaned over to tap at the screen of Jim’s padd. They were already squeezed pretty close together on a bench seat in the cafeteria, so he didn’t have to go far. “Here. If you let me know who you’re considering- just whoever you like the look or sound of- I can check their qualifications.”

 

“What sort of qualification best prepares someone for listening to my, uhh- what was it you said? National Geographic back-catalog?”

 

Leonard smirked at him. “Maybe a child psychologist?”

 

Jim rolled his eyes but looked thoughtful.

 

-

 

Jim was always kind of fragmented after a therapy session. Leonard knew the feeling, like someone had been rummaging around in his brain and then rearranged it in a way that felt lighter, somehow, but left him exhausted and a little overwhelmed. He never asked what Jim had talked about in his sessions, made only the vaguest possible queries about whether it had gone well.

 

So he was surprised, to say the least, when Jim slumped into the seat opposite him at his kitchen table and confessed after only the smallest sip of bourbon. “I’ve always hated what my mark is. It reminds me of my dad.”

 

If it had been anything else, Leonard wasn’t sure he would have had any idea what to say. “Yeah. Me too, actually.”

 

“You’ve never talked about your dad.”

 

Well, shit. Leonard had walked right into that one. “Technically, I have.” He saw Jim consider that for a moment, took a fortifying swig of his drink before continuing. “He was a doctor. He and my mother weren’t soulmates. She always said she didn’t mind. He said that, too, until he didn’t. Until he-“ Leonard closed his eyes for a moment, because he wave of emotion was more intense than he had expected. Jim -God bless him- leaned over and refilled his glass. “He spent six months undergoing experimental hormone treatments before submitting for surgery to have his mark removed. He died on the operating table. His heart couldn’t cope with the- strain.  _ God. _ ”

 

His breathing hitched, eyes stung, tears fell. He clenched his fists and willed his damn body to stop shaking. It only felt possible when Jim’s hand covered his, and he unclenched to tangle their fingers together, conscious of squeezing too hard. “Sorry, this was supposed to be about you.”

 

“Don’t be sorry. It helps. To know I’m not the only one.”

 

“Well, then, you’re welcome.”

 

Jim’s soft, sweet smile made Leonard feel marginally better, and a little less like retreating to bed with what remained of the bottle of bourbon.

 

Gently, Jim prompted, “Your dad- was the Patient Zero you mention in your article, wasn’t he?”

 

There was an ache in Leonard’s chest, familiar but no longer all-consuming. “He was, yes.”

 

He was being gathered into Jim’s arms before he even knew what he’d confirmed, but of course Jim had trawled the archives to which he technically did not have access, had read everything he could on the subject. He knew, without Leonard having to say, that he had been the one trusted to carry out the surgery, his father’s mark on his shoulder blade where he couldn’t reach it alone.

 

“It was his decision,” Leonard confessed, somewhat wetly, into Jim’s hair. “He would have found somebody else, if not me, but I’ll always wonder if I should have fought. Convinced him not to. But there were no more tests we could do, no more ideas.”

 

Jim’s hand was pressed into the small of his back, warm and solid and strong, and he felt Jim’s fingers twitch.

 

“What?” He asked, pulling back to look Jim in the eye when he was answered only with silence for a moment and finding him with a guilty expression on his face. “Tell me.”

 

“It’s just- that’s not what I wonder. I wonder if maybe he knew there was a chance he might die, or he might be fixed. And either of those options was better than how he felt before.”

 

That made Leonard’s thoughts tangle, confused, but he managed to pin down the one that couldn’t be shut in a box for him to deal with later. “Is that how you felt? That night I found you with a knife in your hand?”

 

“No.” Jim blinked as he said it, as though he was as surprised by the answer as anybody else, then grimaced. “This is gonna make things ten times worse.”

 

“Well that bottle’s almost full. No time like the present.”

 

“I knew you’d save me.”

 

Oh. Yeah, that hurt. The thought that if his father had felt that way, then Leonard had let him down terribly; that if he’d done his best, given everything he had, he could still have lost Jim, left him bleeding out on the bathroom floor without any idea of what to do. What if the queue at the Thai place had been longer? Or he’d not accepted Phil’s strongly worded suggestion that it was time for him to head home? He didn’t think he could have coped.

 

“I’m here, Bones. I’m sorry.” Jim was holding him close, because he was fighting back tears, because they could safely break apart in one another’s arms and know they would be held together, through sheer force of will.

 

And a little outside help. “Let’s get drunk.”

 

Jim laughed in his ear and reached for the bottle.

 

-

 

The day of Jim’s surgery, Leonard wasn’t sure which of them was more nervous. He’d reserved an operating room at the hospital, blocked access to the only viewing bay and locked the holofeed so it could only be accessed with his own personal code. The door was locked, and nothing would open it save an Admiral’s override and then they’d have to compete with the chair he’d wedged against the close button. Sometimes the old tricks were the best.

 

Aside from Jim, Leonard was the only person in the room, assisted only by an AI-powered bot that would be able to perform basic nursing functions.

 

Even so, Jim eyed the cylinder of anaesthetic with trepidation. “I want a local.”

 

“Can’t do that, Jim. The pain you’ll go through- it’s perceived directly in your brain, bypassing your central nervous system. It’ll be agony. Could kill you.”

 

“Is that why-“ Jim glanced at the camera in the corner of the ceiling, even though it technically wasn’t visible, then said- “Patient Zero?”

 

Ah. Of course. Leonard chose not to comment on the fact that Jim should have known all that, with the research he had done. “I think so.”

 

Jim was laying back, wearing sterilized scrubs in lieu of a hospital gown that would only have been a further insult to his fragile sense of dignity. He was about as comfortable as it was possible to be, in the circumstances, and still he was heart-breakingly cautious when he ventured. “You won’t leave?”

 

“I’ll be right here. The whole time.”

 

“Promise?”

 

God, Leonard wanted to beat some sense into whichever sorry excuse for a human being had hurt this strong, fragile man. He leaned in to press his forehead against Jim’s so all he could see were the depths of wide blue eyes. “If the world ends outside this room, I will still be here.”

 

Jim took his hand. He still had a cuff over his mark, hadn’t wanted Leonard to see it until the last possible moment. He wouldn’t have uncovered it at all if it hadn’t been entirely necessary. Leonard traced the edge of that cuff with a finger, thought about closing that tiny distance between them in a kiss but it felt too much like saying goodbye.

 

His doubt must have shown in his face, because Jim pulled away to tell him with impressive certainty, “This is the right thing to do. It’s what I want.”

 

“No takebacks.’ Leonard’s tone was serious, but Jim smiled at him, beautiful and bright and sure. Leonard watched him consider responses, expression cycling through an array of undefined emotion before he settled on one.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Leonard knew he didn’t just mean the surgery, didn’t dare contemplate the expanse of what Jim might have encompassed in that one statement. He smiled. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

 

He hesitated longer than he should have done, once Jim was properly under, before removing the cuff from his wrist.

 

He hesitated longer still when he saw what it was. How could he not have? When the image was as irreversibly seared into his consciousness as it had been from the day it had appeared on the skin of his own wrist. A single shooting star.

 

There was no cancelling the surgery, no convincing Jim to change his mind. And Leonard had already made that choice for them, hadn’t he, when he’d had someone take a scalpel to his own skin.

 

At least he had been unconscious for that one.

 

Well, when he was finished, technically they would match. Leonard wiped his eyes on the shoulder of his scrubs and got to work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who already read chapter one, please note the rating has been upped to M from T and there are a couple of new tags to match

About a week later, Jim arrived at Leonard’s apartment one evening, wild-eyed and flushed and panting, his clothing in what was, actually, for him only moderate disarray. Leonard looked up from his padd, took in the sight. “What are you doing? Close the door.”

 

Jim looked mostly confused by the concept, took a moment to look around vaguely before lashing out at the door to close it with a slam.

 

“I had to be sure,” he panted as he paced, unwilling or unable to settle down.

 

“Are you on drugs?” Leonard eyed his medkit, always close to hand and at that moment underneath the coffee table, ever since he’d come to terms with the scale and frequency of Jim’s escapades.

 

“No! For the first time, thanks to you, my mind is my own! I can think clearly. I’m not restrained by something I don’t understand.”

 

Leonard did his best not to feel anything but pride in the words. Jim felt better. That was what mattered. Not the issue of their matching marks, which Leonard might have neglected to tell Jim about as yet. Judging by his attitude in that moment, the last thing Jim needed or wanted was for Leonard to serve as a stark reminder of feeling so unavoidably tied down. He was still so young and he had so many options and, for the first time in his life, the freedom to explore them. He could have anybody, gorgeous and vibrant and confident as he was. Leonard could never even dream of taking that away from him.

 

Still, his behavior was concerningly erratic. “I want to scan you.”

 

Before he could even reach his bag, Jim was in his lap. He was warm and a little damp with sweat and he smelled rather intimately of Gaila’s perfume.

 

“Uhh-“ Leonard began, even as his hands found Jim’s hips seemingly of their own accord. Jim was breathing heavily, shoulders heaving, chest straining, his hands shaking where he was digging his fingers into Leonard’s shoulders. Could it be a bad reaction? Some interaction with a substance that differed noticeably with the hormones that had fled Jim’s bloodstream? Could he have found out, somehow, that Leonard had lied to him? That they were on some vastly misunderstood level fated-

 

Jim was kissing him. The press of his lips was slow and sensuous, the rest of his body seemingly absorbing his restless, kinetic energy. His fingers tangled in Leonard’s hair, traced patterns at the back of his neck, his hips twitching, breathing still ragged and short but his mouth so soft and warm and his tongue a slow, wet glide against Leonard’s. He whimpered -honest to God whimpered- when Leonard tilted his head to deepen the kiss, lifting his knees to slide Jim just that bit closer, to settle him into the cradle of his thighs, one hand flattened at the base of Jim’s spine while Leonard leaned in, tilted Jim back so he clung more tightly-

 

And finally managed to close his fingers around the handle of his med-bag.

 

“I hate you so much,” Jim muttered, into Leonard’s throat where he had buried his face, words punctuated by little kisses, nips and licks that betrayed his true feelings and shot straight to Leonard’s stirring groin.

 

“I’d hate me more if I didn’t check. Reckon you would too.” Leonard was trying to program his tricorder with one hand, though, unwilling to free the one that had snuck beneath the hem of Jim’s shirt.

 

“You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed what’s been happening between us.”

 

“I noticed.” Leonard met Jim’s huge, darkened eyes as he set the scanner to his neck. “Thought it was too good to be true.”

 

Jim just watched him, unblinking and hopelessly, endlessly gorgeous while Leonard frowned at the tricorder display.

 

“You’re clean.”

 

“Could’a told you that.”

 

“Figuratively, I mean. You smell like a whorehouse.”

 

“That’s how I knew!” Jim leaned back, wrists still draped over Leonard’s shoulders, both so vulnerable and exposed. “I was with Gaila -who does not smell like a whorehouse, anyway, that’s rude- and she was soft and beautiful and oh-so willing. She does this thing with her tongue that’s just-“ he broke off, met Leonard’s exceedingly arched brow and grinned. “But all I could think about was you.”

 

Oh, fuck. That was the moment. The one Leonard wasn’t going to be able to come back from if he let it go by without telling Jim what he knew about their marks. He had thought he would have more time.

 

He’d just kiss him for a moment longer first, feel the shift of that exquisite body in his arms, enjoy the taste of Jim, at once impossible and unforgettable.

 

“Jim-“ It should have been an objection. It sounded like a prayer. 

 

Jim answered with a roll of his hips and Leonard saw stars.

 

There was so much warm, soft skin to explore, to set his fingers and his lips and his tongue to, so smooth and perfectly unmarred. Leonard stole a long kiss he pressed to the tiny scar on Jim’s wrist. He was the first to ever do so, but he didn’t deserve such an honor. He was lying to his best friend, the one man who would have done anything for him.

 

“Jim-”

 

“You’re the only person who’s ever kissed me like I matter.”

 

Oh Jesus fucking Christ, Leonard had to stop it, had to stand firm and tell the truth.

 

Unfortunately the one part of him that was literally standing tall was incredibly distracting. For a moment Leonard could think of nothing else but Jim’s deft fingers sliding beneath his waistband and wrapping around him, stroking skilfully in time with the thrusts of his tongue.

 

“Jim, stop.”

 

Jim was a good man. He did as he was told. He did not remove his hand from Leonard’s pants. It took everything Leonard had not to thrust into that grasp and just take.

 

“Bones?”

 

“I need to tell you something.”

 

Then, Jim removed his hand, wiping it on Leonard’s sweats before sitting back with a sullen huff. He was so close, but getting further away with every moment that passed. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t going to end well?”

 

Leonard flinched.

 

Jim watched him with a stony expression on his face. “If this is about my mark.”

 

“ _ Jim. _ ”

 

“Oh, I should have fucking known. So, what, were you hoping we’d turn out to have the same one and I’d change my mind suddenly and fall into your arms and it would be so easy because it was all meant to happen?”

 

“No!”

 

“No. You’re right. It could never be easy with me, could it?” Jim was choking back tears, staggered to his feet and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “What was I thinking? Just ignore all that stuff I said, it’s- not important now.”

 

“Jim, don’t do this, damnit, I’m trying to tell you-“

 

“It’s okay, Bones, I get the message. A little flirting is fine but not anything serious. I get it.”

 

“Jim, we have- had the same-“

 

“I’ll see you around, Bones.”

 

“Just wait, I- fuck!”

 

He was gone. Leonard stood in the doorway, watched him run, knew he’d never catch him. If Jim didn’t want to be found, Leonard didn’t stand a chance. If he’d physically tried to stop him, Jim would have lashed out. And if he’d shouted over him properly, Jim would just have shouted back. As little as he liked Jim being out there in that state, he’d be in a worse one after Leonard’s news. There wasn’t a chance he’d answer his comm.

 

Leonard would just have to corner him so they could talk it out in the morning. After one of his many, many Xenobio classes, they had a regulations seminar together and Jim couldn’t risk the demerit he’d earn for skipping. That would have to do, and Leonard would just have to come out with it before Jim could interrupt with his own faulty interpretations. He wasn’t a Captain yet, damnit.

 

-

 

Leonard killed his virtual Yridian patient so many times the instructor had to turn off the sound to his monitor to avoid disturbing the other students. He’d had no sleep, and the beeping of the biobed was a blaring and repeated reminder that he had failed to save his patient, that he couldn’t even keep his own father alive so what the hell had he been thinking when he considered himself competent.

 

He had to duck out to take a break. The professor understood, would let him make it up, described him as having an off-day.

 

That was one way of putting it.

 

While classes were in session, the cafeteria was almost deserted and Leonard got a cup of tea in the vain hope it would calm his nerves, might help him forget that he was in the process of ruining the most important relationship in his life through his own inability to just face up to his own damn problems. He had never truly shouted Jim down, had come close once towards the beginning of their developing friendship and been faced with such wide-eyed, instinctive distress he’d made sure not to do it again. But Jim didn’t trust him enough to just let him speak, sometimes.

 

They didn’t actually know each other that well, had taken their natural kinship as given and simply run with it until their lives were so closely entwined that Leonard hardly knew what he would do without Jim, any more.

 

Was that their marks at work? Did they still have a hold over the two of them in ways as yet unknown? Or were the marks just another symptom of a condition they had brought on themselves? And why did nobody aside from him seem to care enough to study it?

 

Leonard didn’t believe in fate. But when it all seemed too much to be a simple coincidence he wasn’t sure where else to turn.

 

Geoffrey Michaels, the Head of Student Affairs walked in, then, accompanied by- wow. Leonard was not looking forward to studying that species in Xenobio. The being that floated in alongside the man looked like a huge, rainbow-coloured ball of yarn crossed with an equally rainbow-coloured jellyfish. They conversed, somehow, in a low melodic tone that seemed to emit directly from vibrating, dangling tendrils beneath the interwoven ball that made up their body.

 

“Ah, Doctor.”

 

Oh, great. Apparently Michaels knew who he was. The perils of actually being good at his job. Or just wearing a medical uniform while in the cafeteria.

 

“Mr Michaels,” Leonard greeted as he was approached, with a significant glance at the other being he had no clue how to address.

 

“Doctor, this is Klerq. They are a Ros, from the plant Rosario. The newest additions to the Federation. They are the first envoy to our planet and it is a great honor to have them here.”

 

“Pleasure to meet you.” Leonard even managed not to grimace despite the bowing and scraping and the splitting headache behind his eyes. He hadn’t seen that announcement, but he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to the news feed on his padd that morning.

 

“ _It is good to meet you as well. I understand your title -Doctor- carries a great deal of reverence among your people. The greatest respect. You are able to heal your fellow humans, are you not?_ ”

 

“Well, I certainly do my best.”

 

“ _Humans are so wonderful. So complex for such an unevolved species._ ”

 

There wasn’t really anything to say to that. Leonard smiled as pleasantly as he could, through the beginnings of inexplicable dread settling in his stomach.

 

“ _It is so pleasing to meet with you. We have watched you from afar, hoping that you would one day advance sufficiently to full acknowledge and appreciate our gifts. But we are impatient. I have come to help. So few of you have unlocked the full potential. To be linked to another in our way is the ultimate blessing._ ”

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Michaels began.

 

Leonard did. “You mean our marks,” he interrupted, because the fear rising in him made him irritable. “You did that?”

 

“ _It is easy for us._ ” The rainbow ball sort of glowed with pleasure, and Leonard had to resist the urge to shove his chair back and away. “ _To see how you all connect. We will help you. And your species will advance, with each of your destined operating to their full potential._ ”

 

“That’s why? For- societal advancement?” That wouldn’t have been Leonard’s first guess, but then alien benevolence rarely made sense to him.

 

“ _For the good of your species! The best genes can be passed on this way. Your offspring happiest. Brilliant minds flourishing. I -forgive me- find your aura is blurred. Do you know your match? Did you use a communications service to locate them? Or a meditative state to allow your instincts to be guided?_ ”

 

“Uhh, none of those. And- it didn’t work out.”

 

The bright sparkling ball flooded a deep, dark purple. Leonard got cautiously to his feet. Hopefully somebody would alert security when they heard raised voices or worse. He’d seen a few cadets drifting past from classes that had finished earlier.

 

“ _It is not possible that it didn’t work out. You will let me touch it. I will fix it for you._ ”

 

“Uhh-“

 

“You heard the envoy, Doctor. They’re offering to help you find your soulmate. Show them your mark,” Michaels prompted, flushed and nervous and hugely unhelpful.

 

“I can’t.”

 

“We’re all professionals here. If it’s somewhere intimate I’m sure the envoy won’t be offended.”

 

The alien hummed their agreement. “ _I will not. Humans are so tragically beautiful._ ” But the bright lilting tone had given way to a deep, vibrating resonance.

 

Leonard’s heart pounded but he raised his chin defiantly because none of it changed a damn thing and he stood by his research and his decisions. Humans were not the plaything of a matchmaking alien species. “I don’t have a mark.”

 

The ball flashed white.

 

Michaels stepped in, “Stop messing around, McCoy-“

 

“ _McCoy?_ ” Klerq asked, with a sudden, disturbing recognition and Leonard had a really bad feeling about that. “ _You are Doctor Le-oh-nard McCoy. You endorse the removal of our blessing!_ ”

 

_ Jesus fucking Christ _ , Leonard managed somehow not to say. “In some circumstances, yes. When it threatens the well-being of the person with the mark, I do.”

 

“What the hell, McCoy?”

 

So much for his title. Leonard had had neither enough sleep nor coffee to deal with any of it. “Hey, fuck you, okay? I removed marks from people who were on the verge of suicide. I saved their lives and you won’t make me regret that.”

 

“ _What is this_ suicide?” Klerq was back to sparkling, but still purple, still vibrating with tension.

 

“There are people who find the concept of the mark painful. So painful, they cause themselves injury attempting to remove it, or end their own lives in order to escape it. People feel like their marks control them. That they force them to go against their nature as individuals. The hormones it releases into their bloodstream change their behavior. And until now, they’ve never had the opportunity to understand why, or how it came to be-“

 

“ _That is enough. You believe you know better than we, but you are wrong. The blessing will make you see._ ”

 

“No-“ But there were already tendrils wrapping around Leonard, shoving Michaels aside when he attempted feebly to intervene -and they actually felt like yarn, what the hell- curling around his limbs and his throat, his mind a vibrant cacophony of images that weren’t his own, that were placed there by an otherworldly force, shoved roughly into his consciousness while a deep, burning sensation spread outwards from his wrist, the fucking mark he’d worked so hard to erase, goddamnit, he wouldn’t give in-

 

He was dropped abruptly to the floor with a flash of white, hadn’t even realized he’d been lifted, his throat sore as though he’d been screaming even though he was sure he hadn’t made a sound.

 

“ _You lied,_ ” Klerq accused in disbelief.

 

Where the fuck were security? And what the fuck was that banging sound?

 

“ _You have found them. You love them._ ”

 

Oh, great. The all-seeing alien was telepathic, too. Leonard snarled out, “Not because of you. Because of him! I got rid of my damn mark before I even met him. You didn’t get a say. You didn’t make him the way he is. I would love him no matter what your damn species had to say about it.”

 

“ _Perhaps you humans are more advanced than we had thought._ ”

 

Considering Leonard had spent the previous few moments growling at them like a dog, he actually thought that was pretty unlikely. “We’re not advanced. We’re a mess. But we don’t spend our lives going along with your matchmaking. There’s too much out there to explore, and to invent, and to learn. Your so-called blessing was well-meant, but we don’t need it. And if you really want to help us, give us a choice. You’ve rummaged around in my brain enough, I’m sure you can figure out what the hell informed consent is. But there are enough species out there who have tried to control us, and not a damn one of them has managed it so far.”

 

With a thoughtful, trilling hum, Klerq reached out with just one tendril and Leonard tensed, ready for another assault, had nowhere to go-

 

“You touch him again I’ll fucking kill you.”

 

_Jim_. Jim, with steady hands braced around a phaser Leonard didn’t want to consider the provenance of, eyes blazing, jaw set. Leonard loved him so damn much. 

 

“ _I believe you. It is not just a matchmaking service, as you state, though._ ” Klerq’s tone was surprisingly conversational, given Michaels laying unresponsive next to them and Jim’s trigger finger twitching. “ _You share a part of yourselves with one another. When one falls, the other will pick you up to carry on. You sense one another’s feelings. Gain knowledge you could never hope to, on your own. Make one another better._ ”

 

“We’d do that with or without your help.” Jim was the one to put it into words, through gritted teeth, and Leonard’s heart leapt at the hope they instilled in him.

 

“ _Are all humans so ungrateful?_ ”

 

“Yes.” Both Jim and Leonard answered without hesitation. The many and varied bootsteps of security teams could be heard approaching.

 

“ _Not sure why I bother,_ ” Klerq muttered, disappearing in a flash of light the instant before anyone in a red shirt rounded the corner. 

 

Recognising Zara, a field medic more competent than some of the medical doctors he had met, Leonard left Michaels to her attention in favor of Jim.

 

It took him a moment to lower the phaser. “Did it hurt you?”

 

With a flash of panic, Leonard checked his wrist, deeply relieved to find it unmarred. “No. I’m alright.”

 

“Don’t bullshit me, Bones. I felt it, too.”

 

“Damn jellyfish meant all that literally, huh?”

 

Leonard felt a moment of deep, crushing despair that was not his own, and wasn’t that just terrifying, although not quite as terrifying as the moment Jim sighed and said, “This sucks.”

 

“What?” He hardly dared to ask. It felt like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach.

 

“I hurt a lot, Bones. I don’t want you to have to feel that, too.”

 

Oh, thank fuck. He had thought- well, never mind what he had thought. “Well, if that’s all it takes to get you taking better care of yourself, I’d do it all over again too.”

 

Did the fragile hope taking hold in his chest come from him, or not? Did it matter?

 

Jim bit his lip, ventured more cautiously than Leonard would have thought him capable of, “That’s what I’ve got you for. Isn’t it?”

 

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Leonard breathed, and they both stepped in but he reached out to touch Jim’s cheek before they could kiss like he knew they were going to. “Mark or not.”

 

“We’ll make a few of our own,” Jim promised, sinking his teeth into Leonard’s bottom lip before gently, thoroughly kissing it better. 

 

“You guys are disgusting.” Zara informed them both. “No wonder that weird alien ships you.”

 

Clearly, she had gone insane, because that last sentence didn’t even make sense.

 

-

 

Bearing in mind that there was nothing he could have done about it at the time, was it better or worse for Leonard to have had no idea how critically injured Jim had been? How would he have felt, he wondered, if he had felt pain sparking through him without any apparent reason, just the man he loved light-years away and firmly beyond any aid Leonard could have hoped to offer? Was it worse than having felt nothing, having truly believed that Jim had to have been safe even with the distance between them?

 

Both options were terrible. Jim had been on some survival assignment on a deserted planet when they had been ambushed by rogue Klingons, and he had been more thoroughly bruised, beaten and bled that he was willing to admit. Leonard had seen his medical chart, though. It made his heart ache, even with Jim safe in bed next to him, released from medical bay with a stern warning to take it easy. His beautiful face was healed of the cuts and scrapes he’d had when he landed, thanks to Leonard’s own hand, but his body was still very much recovering. Leonard might never have seen Jim again. Might never have kissed him, or held him, or reminded him that he loved him.

 

Leonard might not even have been told, officially. They weren’t matched, after all, just dating. He was listed at Jim’s next of kin, but what would that net him beyond a formal notification of death, sent days after the matter?

 

When he reached out to touch a perfect, angular cheekbone Jim’s eyelashes fluttered. Shit. Leonard was supposed to be letting him rest. Some friend, lover and doctor he was.

 

“B’nes?” Jim’s lips were plush and pink, soft and sleep-warm when Leonard leaned over to kiss him. Vague and uncoordinated, Jim responded with a faint, unselfconscious moan, easily laying back, limbs splayed, when Leonard pushed him there with a gentle hand. Pressed into the mattress by the weight of Leonard’s body, his breathing became heavier, more labored, his tongue sliding against Leonard’s eagerly.

 

“God, I thought you’d make me wait for days before you touched me,” Jim breathed when Leonard set about trailing kisses along his jaw, down his throat, sucking gently to feel the beat of Jim’s heart in his mouth. Jim was beautifully pliant, too exhausted to think too much, and Leonard made the most of the freedom he’d been allowed to map the expanse of Jim’s exposed chest with his lips, sucking at his nipples until he shivered, raising trembling hands to thread fingers through Leonard’s hair. He didn’t resist, didn’t object or try to hurry Leonard along. It gave Leonard all the time he could ever have wanted to worship the man he so adored and had come to close to losing without even knowing it.

 

It was also, however, incredibly uncharacteristic of his usual vibrant, impatient Jim. After a long, wet kiss during which he could at least hear Jim’s helpless little encouraging whimpers and feel his hardness pressing into Leonard’s hip, Leonard risked asking, “You alright?”

 

They knew each other so well that it had been a while since he’d had to ask and Jim tensed, the very effect he had so feared. With a deep breath and a few moments staring into Leonard’s eyes searching for who knew what, he sagged once again into the bed. “There was- and it wasn’t that bad, really- just one moment when I was terrified I might never have this again.”

 

Leonard squeezed his eyes shut against the threat of tears, pressed his forehead to JIm’s and just breathed the same air as him until he felt like he could speak. “You won’t be up there alone again.”

 

With a shudder, Jim gave a little hiccuping sob and tilted his head up into another kiss. He let his hands roam, unhurried and reverent, rolling his hips up and sending sparks of delicious friction through them both. Jim wore loose sleep pants, and Leonard divested him of them quickly, throwing aside his own briefs to crush the expanse of their bodies together. It pressed Jim into the sheets, made him gasp and whimper but if anything relax further, loose and trusting. 

 

“That’s it,” Leonard encouraged him in between slow, deep kisses because he’d only seen that side of Jim in fleeting glimpses before and he loved it, loved everything about him. “Let me take care of you, tonight.”

 

Jim hummed his sweet, submissive agreement and Leonard set about sucking a mark into his throat. Jim’s cock was leaking, leaving cool smears across both their stomachs, his hips twitching involuntarily, but he made no move to take control. He had to be aching and sore from his injuries, Leonard careful not to crush his ribs, using just enough of his weight to press as much of their skin together as possible, blanketing Jim with his presence. He would never risk hurting him, not ever, not when they’d come so close to losing what they’d barely had the chance to enjoy.

 

They argued. They fought. They contradicted one another with astonishing regularity, never on the same page until it came to those moments when it was just the two of them, and words didn’t matter any more. There was nothing they wouldn’t do for each other.

 

“I have never-“ Leonard pressed his lips to the mark he’d successfully left on Jim’s pectoral, over his heart, “loved anyone as much as I love you.”

 

“Yeah?” Jim’s beautiful blue eyes were searching, but not panicked or desperate. He wanted to hear it again, but he didn’t need to, so Leonard reached for Jim’s wrist to bring it to his lips before he answered.

 

“Completely. And utterly.” With his eyes on Jim’s, Leonard sucked another mark, gentle with the thin, sensitive skin, watching to see the moment when, like the dawn breaking, Jim’s acceptance showed in his face, as surprised and awestruck as ever by Leonard’s unconditional adoration.

 

Just one more bite, then, close to Jim’s hipbone, in a spot certain to make him squirm and whimper. Leonard rarely had as much time as he wanted to lavish attention on that particular place, Jim distracted by his proximity to his cock, but he was allowed long moments of gentle suction until the skin was a deep, lovely shade of pink. With a last pass of Leonard’s tongue over the hot, pounding pulse of Jim’s blood, he turned his attention to where he knew Jim wanted it.

 

Leonard licked up spots and smears of pre-come from Jim’s stomach, the underside of his cock, delving his tongue into the slit for every last trace in a move that made Jim whine and arch, clenching his fists in the sheets. He was holding back, giving Leonard control, and Leonard adored him for it.

 

“Oh my God, Bones,” Jim panted helplessly when Leonard wrapped his lips around his cock, taking him in, slow but deep and hot and wet. Jim was lax, pliant and willing. He only moaned wordlessly when Leonard rubbed a spit-slick finger around his hole, no intention of delving inside but sure the threat would be enough.

 

It wasn’t long before it was. Jim spilled onto his tongue with a keening sound, legs trembling, chest heaving, head back and throat exposed, so beautiful and vulnerable in that moment that barely had Leonard swallowed his release down before he claimed another kiss. Jim sucked the taste of himself from Leonard’s tongue and made a pleased little sound when Leonard groaned his approval.

 

Leonard hadn’t thought about how hard he was, didn't even consider it until Jim wrapped uncoordinated fingers around his length, spreading pre-come to ease the slide not quite well enough until he lifted his hand to Leonard’s mouth, let him lick his palm. That was better, slicker and hot and rhythmic, building higher until Leonard gasped out his climax, pulsing across Jim’s stomach.

 

Jim had a terrible habit that Leonard knew he could no longer live without; he wiped his come-smeared hand across Leonard’s lips and then sucked and licked it off, sharing the taste.

 

Clinging, maybe, and with his face pressed into Jim’s throat, Leonard could finally fall asleep, and he did it with Jim’s heart beating steadily against his lips, that flavor still on his tongue.

 

-

 

It had been months since their ridiculous encounter with an alien Leonard could hardly remember, by then. It might have been by design, or his own mind working to repress what had been traumatic, but he could recall only blurry details. He was still better than Michaels, who had no recollection beyond his breakfast that morning and had been wholly baffled to find himself in the cafeteria. Klerq -if that had indeed been their name- had disappeared without a trace, rather unhelpfully, and no enquiries into their planetary origins had ceded results. At least the hints they had dropped had encouraged a few Starfleet researchers to consider the marks in a new, more important light, but generally things had returned to what resembled normal.

 

Of course, that depended on individual definitions.

 

“Well, the good news is, there’s a name for the sensation the two of you have been experiencing.”

 

Phil Boyce was a good doctor, and he’d agreed at short notice to see Leonard and Jim about the discrepancies they’d been experiencing in relation to their marks. While they were together, they were closer than any two people had any right to be. They sensed emotions and moods and could read one another in an instant. But with distance, they might as well have been strangers. Neither had any idea where the other was, and -were they truly matched- they should at least have been able to get a vague sense of it. 

 

Leonard had a sinking feeling about Phil’s phrasing, but Jim was, uncharacteristically, the one who had argued that they should submit to some sort of testing. Apparently he hated the uncertainty more than he hated the thought of being affected by alien forces, and he had needed an explanation he could rationalize beyond their being magically fated, somehow.

 

“Thank you!” Jim huffed his relief at being validated with a sideways glance at Leonard, who couldn’t resist arching a brow.

 

“Don’t say that, he’s only gunna say-“

 

“It’s called the placebo effect. The two of you have no more of a psychic effect on one another than you do on the rotation of the Earth.”

 

Well, at least he didn’t sugar-coat it. Leonard had sort of expected that, with his own research and all the effort they had gone to in order to free themselves from undue influence. He wasn’t totally sure how Jim might feel about it, though, even with how close they were.

 

A little vaguely, they thanked Phil and left his office, walked across the campus from the hospital until Jim sank onto a bench in the courtyard with a sigh. Leonard knew that asking him if he was alright would only compound the issue, sat down next to him and waited instead.

 

“What am I thinking about?” Jim said, after a while, tone and expression as unreadable as Leonard had ever seen.

 

“I have no idea.”

 

Jim stared out at all the students passing by, smile slowly broadening. He reached out to take Leonard’s hand and firmly entangled their fingers.

 

Leonard had no idea what any of that meant. But in that moment, with Jim shifting closer to rest his head on Leonard’s shoulder, he couldn’t have cared any less.

 

-

 

“What the hell, Bones? When were you planning on telling me about this? You didn’t think I deserved to know what was happening before I got a fucking email about it and nearly had a panic attack on the bridge? I just stumbled across it in that influx we got when we drew in range of Starbase 18.”

 

Jim had stormed into Leonard’s office to vent that particular selection of vitriol, so distracted by his own plight that he failed to heed the unimpressed glare he was receiving throughout. He was waving a padd around, presumably containing information on whatever the hell had him so agitated.

 

Clearly, he was upset. Leonard took a deep breath, trying not to respond instinctively and snap back. He only vaguely succeeded. “Jim, what the fuck are you talking about? I have three thousand emails of my own to get through. I don’t need this. Now sit down before I sedate you.”

 

Still with one eye on the screen of his terminal, he managed to delete three more outdated memos by the time he fished a tricorder out of his drawer and pressed it to Jim’s begrudgingly extended wrist. He didn’t miss the way Jim flinched as he did. 

 

“Please sit down,” he urged, more softly, leaning over the desk himself so Jim could press his fingers into the pulse point of Leonard’s wrist, close his eyes and breathe to the rhythm of Leonard’s calmer heartbeat. He deleted forty three more emails as he waited for Jim to settle.

 

“I got an email from your office,” Jim said, low, not meeting Leonard’s eyes and instead staring at the floor.

 

“I didn’t send you an email.”

 

Jim sighed. “Yeah. Not from here. From some research lab in Georgia.”

 

“Someone’s doing research in my name?”

 

That got Jim to look at him, frowning. “They can do that without letting you know?”

 

“Of course. Whatever I’ve published is available to the public. I don’t have a monopoly on it. May I see?”

 

“You might not like it.”

 

“I already don’t. It upset you.”

 

Jim gave him one of his uncertain, vulnerable smiles, and finally handed over the padd. Leonard read it, dread settling into an unpleasant discomfort as he read, parsing the medical language to establish why Jim was so upset.

 

“I didn’t know about this,” he said, first, waited for Jim’s nod before he went on. “And this is not the way they should have gone about it. Sending emails to vulnerable patients -potentially vulnerable, I should say-“ Leonard corrected, at Jim’s expression. “You don’t spring that on people.”

 

He wasn’t happy about that side of things, but he’d suspected research had been taking place during the long years of their mission that had left them out of communication range. With the assistance of various alien authorities, some of which might easily have been of the same floating yarn ball species that had so taken issue with him, researchers had found a way to induce a mark in those who, for whatever reason, didn’t have one.

 

They had sent an email to Jim asking if he wanted to volunteer for the process.

 

Searching by the sender, Leonard found he had one too. He stared at his computer screen for a few moments, unable to fully identify the dark, swirling combination of emotions he experienced at the thought. 

 

“It’s good for- trauma victims. Widows, widowers. I guess.” Jim spoke up, when the silence had stretched on for too long.

 

Leonard nodded. He felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn’t speak.

 

Not even when Jim’s eyes widened with his slowly dawning horror. “You’re thinking about it.”

 

With gritted teeth and a forceful swallow, Leonard managed to meet his eyes. He could only imagine how stricken and guilty he looked, if the way he felt was anything to go by. All he could say was what had been festering in his mind for years. “The number of times I almost lost you- when you could have drawn on it.”

 

“Bones, if we were matched, we might both be dead, you know that. You didn’t need it to save me when it mattered.”

 

That hit Leonard like a physical blow, getting the answer to a question he’d never dared to ask. “You’d still have done it?”

 

“Of course! I didn’t want to leave you. You’re my fucking everything, but- we’re not the only ones who have that. Scotty’s matched, too, and- you should have seen his face. I couldn’t have done that to him, or-“ Jim cut himself off, apparently not at liberty to finish that sentence, changed track instead. “You chose me, even knowing who I am. That I might do something ridiculous like that one day. I made the right choice. And I need you to trust me on that.”

 

“I didn’t know Scotty was matched,” Leonard admitted. It would have been on his personal file, but even Leonard didn’t have access to that information unless it was medically relevant. That did change things, of course; the stress of losing a match could kill the remaining party. It seemed random, not based on health or sex or age, so sending Scotty into that reactor would have been risking two lives, rather than Jim’s one. Technically.

 

Jim gave a rueful little laugh. “Neither did I, ‘til that moment,” he said, then sobered as he was recalled to their actual topic of conversation. “We’re human. And we love each other. Isn’t that enough?”

 

It had been, Leonard thought, of course it had. But that was when they hadn’t been given a choice, his own decisions having forced them down a path long before they had even met. But- “You asked me once to teach you first aid. Do you remember why?”

 

“So-“ Jim sighed, expression sulky. “I could do everything in my power to help you.”

 

“This is the same thing.”

 

“I also remember you refused to teach me.”

 

“Well, maybe I was wrong.”

 

Jim looked heartbroken, and Leonard hated it, hated himself for causing it but couldn’t lie, couldn’t pretend the idea had never occurred to him. He could see Jim’s thought process as clearly as his own, knew he was worried that he might not be enough unless he agreed, and he resented Leonard for making him feel that way.

 

“You’re the one who made all this possible.” Jim rubbed at his wrist, a nervous habit that would usually have had Leonard reaching out to comfort him. At that moment he knew it wouldn’t be welcome.

 

“My father had just died. I watched him go. I was arguably to blame!”

 

“So you think you did the wrong thing?”

 

“Now? Maybe. You can’t tell me you’ve never been wrong. Never changed your mind. It’s been years. And that mark was what kept you live long enough to make it to me. If anything, people are underestimating what their marks can do. Not having ours- nearly took you from me. I never knew it would be like this, but- they were right. We’re perfect together.”

 

Jim had slumped in his seat, raised a hand to run it through his hair. “I feel like we wouldn’t be having this conversation if that were the case.”

 

“We’re having this conversation because this isn’t a decision I’d make without you.”

 

After what might have been a nod of acknowledgment, Jim spent a moment searching Leonard’s eyes for something before he got up and left without another word.

 

Leonard let his head drop onto his desk. He needed to think. He hadn’t even made up his mind either way yet, too much to consider, but he was already causing them to fight.

 

He dwelt on it overnight, alone in his quarters while Jim avoided him and Leonard made no attempt to seek him out, then spent the following day doing inventory. The long, boring hours at warp were good for something, and he was almost too distracted to notice Chapel following him around and double-checking his work. She suggested rather strongly that she could carry out the task alone, and after a while he left her there to finish up while he went and deleted the rest of those damn emails with only half a mind on his task.

 

There were some things that he knew. He knew his life would be all-but meaningless without Jim. That he’d do anything to keep him safe. But Jim wasn’t like other people. Keeping him safe wasn’t as simple as protecting him from injury and taking on his pain whenever Leonard could. Leonard needed to let him be free, to avoid making him feel like he was being controlled. 

 

If he was honest, though, he wanted to hope that Jim might have learned to trust him by then. They had been friends and colleagues and lovers and fucking soulmates for so long. Had they really made so little progress in relation to Jim’s trust issues?

 

They could always wait, he knew. They would have to find a practitioner willing to carry out the procedure at a registered Starfleet facility anyway, but if they put it off any more than necessary and something happened to Jim, then Leonard wasn’t sure he’d be able to forgive himself. Then again, whenever it happened he wouldn’t cope any better with losing Jim whether they had been matched and his hormones slowly poisoned him with grief or not.

 

God, but if he pushed the matter, tried to get Jim to come around to his way of thinking, maybe he would lose him just the same.

 

And, on Observation Deck Three, when he walked in to see Jim staring out at the stars with his arms wrapped around himself like he was cold, even in his uniform, Leonard knew he couldn’t do it.

 

“I’ll do it,” Jim told him, before he could say any of that.

 

And just knowing that he would was suddenly enough. Leonard drew Jim into his arms to kiss him, couldn’t have cared any less about any of that because he had everything he needed in that moment. So much could go wrong, whatever they did, that he knew he had to savor every second they’d been given. They were already everything that two humans in love had ever been meant to be.

 

“I don’t want you to.”

 

“Fuck, you’re confusing.” But Jim was smiling at him, strong and gorgeous and so relieved that Leonard had no idea what he could possibly have been thinking, wanting any more than what he had been so willingly given. Jim had so many reasons not to trust him but there they were, all the same.

 

“Mark or not, anything happens to you, it’ll destroy me. I don’t want to make you live with anything I’ve chosen for you. You- just see the way forward, and I’ll be right behind you, doing everything in my power to keep you safe.”

 

The fade of Jim’s smile into a guilty sort of grimace was so gradual it took Leonard a moment to notice. 

 

“What?” he asked when he did.

 

“I did something.”

 

Leonard cringed, nodded at him to go ahead and explain whatever ridiculous escapade he had embarked upon.

 

And Jim bit his lip like he was trying not to smile, and pulled at his sleeve to expose his left wrist.

 

Leonard stared down at the black ink he saw there with suddenly blurred vision and a sense of astounded disbelief that should really have been familiar by then. “Is that a snow globe?”

 

“Yeah. Because-“ Jim leaned in, wrapped his arm around Leonard’s waist and leaned in to kiss the spot below his ear and say, “If it weren’t for you, I’d just be floating in space. Waiting to break.”

 

The skin looked red, a little swollen. Leonard traced the slightly raised lines with a finger while he caught his breath, as gentle as he could but still enough to make Jim hiss.

 

“I hope that machine was sterile.”

 

Jim nosed into his throat. “Thinking of getting one yourself? I can get Scotty to set it up again.”

 

“Well, you know me. Always living on the edge. Taking risks. Doing the unexpected. Sorry for putting you through the wringer today.”

 

“Well, I’m sorry for doing it- all the other days.”

 

Leonard made a small sound of amusement, still tracing lines, staring at the space in the middle of the globe, just big enough for that fucking ridiculous shooting star they both hated. “Might get a Melvaren mud flea on mine.”

 

Jim snickered, pressed closer, didn’t move his wrist away even though it must have hurt. “Doesn’t that sort of imply I’m allergic to you? Get a motorcycle. Cause of all the times I’ve ridden you.”

 

“Infant.” But Leonard’s fingers had found their way beneath the hem to Jim’s shirt to splay at the small of his back. Then he thought of something and snorted. He really shouldn’t, but Jim brought out the worst in him sometimes. “How about a hypospray because I love to stick it in you?”

 

“I love you so much.”

 

-

 

Leonard’s wrist was later adorned with a swathe of black, broken only by a single star shining bright in the darkness.


End file.
